


Imzadi

by agent85



Series: Imzadi [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Evil Ward Is Evil-er, F/M, Full-Human!Fitz, Half-Betazoid!Simmons, Internalized Xenophobia/Racism, Obligatory Tragic Past, Post-Dominion War-era, Star Trek AU, Suliban!Hydra, Vulcan!May
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 06:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4128645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent85/pseuds/agent85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard enough when your best friend doesn't share your more-than-that feelings, but when she can also read your mind? That's when it gets complicated. Star Trek AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imzadi

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't seen Star Trek, don't despair! Here's a short glossary of terms:
> 
>   * Betazoid: Telepathic people from the planet Betazed. They look like Humans with the exception of their irises, which are completely black. They're known for their friendliness and emotional openness.
>   * EV suit: Space suit.
>   * Jeffries tube: Maintenance shaft/tunnel.
>   * PADD: Personal Access Display Device. Basically, an iPad mini.
>   * Starfleet: It's the navy of the stars, except in Star Trek, the universe is a pretty peaceful place, and this navy is used mostly for exploration and scientific discovery.
>   * Vulcan: People from the planet Vulcan, who are also telepathic. They appear Human, except for their pointed ears. They are known for their stoicism and reliance on logic. The most famous Vulcan is Spock.
>   * Warp core: The engine of a starship, used to power faster-than-light travel (warp). It's a large cylinder in the center of Engineering. 
> 

> 
> Also, [here](http://scifirocker.deviantart.com/art/Uniform-of-the-2370-s-131216910) are the uniforms worn in this AU (best source I could find). Simmons wears blue; Fitz, Bobbi, and Hunter wear gold; and Coulson and May wear red (and Coulson has a fancy belt).
> 
> Many thanks to my beta, [Aretsuna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Aretsuna), for helping me make sure this is non-trekkie friendly!

Lieutenant Leopold Fitz wiped his brow as he finally stood up. He'd have grumbled, if there was anyone to grumble to. A few years back, he'd heard rumors that Starfleet was going to outfit starships with drones that could do this sort of maintenance. The drones didn't pan out for reasons Fitz didn't know, but he figured a trained monkey would be just as effective (and twice as cute). At the very least, they could get him some self-sealing stem bolts.

"You know, I've always liked warp cores. There's something very comforting about them."

Fitz was startled enough to let out a small yelp before spinning around to follow the voice, and he found her standing on the main level with her hands clasped behind her back, surveying the swirling blue of the matter-antimatter reaction. Fitz quickly put his mental walls into place as he clambered down the ladder to stand next to Simmons, mirroring her stance. Maybe it was the constant thrumming that she liked so much. After all, this  _was_  the heart of the starship. It was only fitting that there was a heartbeat to go with it.

"It's been a while since we've seen one," he observed.

She turned to him with a teasing smile. "You're forgetting the Bus."

Fitz folded his arms with a sigh. "A warp core that is only accessible by a Jeffries tube doesn't count, Simmons. Do you know how much I hated doing maintenance for that thing? Took ten minutes of crawling on my belly just to get to it."

She giggled then, a light, airy sound that she tried to hide with a hand over her mouth. Fitz raised an eyebrow at her.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Simmons?" He had to pretend to be annoyed, at least, because if he let himself think about the way the blue light reflected off her skin, let himself notice how close they were standing to each other, it would be too much for him to hold in. He looked into the deepness of her black irises just to remind himself what was at stake.

She pursed her lips, which did not help matters. "Oh, nothing." She pulled at the collar of her blue, standard-issue turtleneck as her smile disappeared completely. "I just . . . I finished the analysis on the samples from Ward and Palamas. I thought it might help with your project." She continued to fiddle with her collar, drawing his attention to the three pips (two gold, one black) that announced her rank. "I'd like you to come take a look."

"Yes, ma'am," he answered with a nod, earning him an eye roll as she turned to walk out of Engineering. She was walking at a brisk enough pace that Fitz had to scramble after her and into the hallway.

"How's the, uh," he asked between heavy breaths, "the training going?"

She turned to look at him, finally slowing her pace. "I'm making progress, I suppose." She shrugged. "I was able to read Ward pretty well this morning. But there are others who aren't as easy."

Fitz gulped. "Well, you know, I wouldn't call Ward  _easy_. You just need practice. You didn't master exobiology in a day." He cocked his head. "Well, maybe you did."

"Fitz, it's not . . ." She let out a groan. "I currently have the empathic capabilities of a Betazoid teenager, and it's twice as difficult to develop these skills post-puberty. I mean, if I was . . ."

She clamped her mouth shut and gave a shake of her head that he knew was meant for herself.

"If you were raised on Betazed?" he finished, waiting for her to roll her eyes and nod. "Well, I've never tried the tea on Betazed, but I  _have_  tried your step-mum's, and I doubt it compares." This earned him a chuckle, but one look at her smile meant he had to reign his feelings in that much tighter. "You're a genius, you know," he continued, trying to distract himself, "and it's not your fault you weren't trained early."

She huffed. "It's not that I wasn't trained, Fitz. I've spent the majority of my life  _actively suppressing_  my abilities. And I . . . if I'd tapped into my potential earlier, Ward wouldn't have . . ."

"Hey," Fitz interjected, "that's not on you. He got to M’Ay, too, and if he could seduce a Vulcan, there's no telling what he could have—"

"Let's not bring M’Ay into this," she huffed, "Vulcan biology brings challenges that we can't speak to." Fitz, surprised by the outburst, decided to back off.

"Sorry."

"No, Fitz, you're . . . it's just that it's been almost a year now. And there are still some things . . ." She trailed off as her gaze swept over him, and he could have sworn he was about to explode. He wanted to put a hand on her shoulder, or embrace her, and he used to be able to do just that. But he'd just managed to get his best friend back, despite his feelings for her, and he wasn't going to ruin it again.

"Come on," she sighed, "let me show you what I found."

She led him to her temporary workspace, where she pulled up the data she'd been working on.

"Do you see that?"

It took him a second to realize that he was looking at strands of DNA (though, in a genetics lab, he wasn't sure what he expected), and he squinted a little at the display. "Is that—"

"Yes, there are clear striations on the double helix. You can't see it at the subatomic level, but when you pull back a bit-"

"The DNA is losing cohesion."

Simmons nodded. "It's very troubling, actually. Whatever technology Hydra is using to give their operatives these . . . abilities is damaging their genes, and as far as I can tell, it's irreversible. Which means it should be possible to detect them, even when they appear Human." Fitz felt a sharp kind of terror pierce his stomach until he remembered that Simmons hadn't infiltrated Hydra deeply enough to be subjected to such horrors.

"Is that why Palamas has the . . ." He gestured at the left half of his face, and saw the understanding in her eyes.

"Yes, I believe she's losing the ability to change back."

Fitz furrowed his brow as a wave of nausea overtook him. "You don't . . . you don't think that-"

"Your device caused this damage? Of course not." Simmons gave an emphasizing  _tsk_. "You designed it to send out a jamming frequency, and that's all it does, I assure you."

Fitz shook his head. "But if, you know, they were  _forced_  to change back . . . Simmons, I didn't intend—"

"I know, Fitz." She turned to put a hand on each of his shoulders, and he couldn't think of the way she was looking into his eyes, so instead, he thought of the blue-gray uniform jacket that matched hers and the gold turtleneck that didn't. He thought of his two pips, his two measly reminders that he was still beneath her in so many ways, and managed to keep his feelings contained.

"But," she continued, "considering that Hydra aims for mass murder and galactic domination, _and_  that their attempt at accomplishing this goal involves genetically modifying their operatives to stick to walls, shapeshift through crevices, and-"

"Become invisible, I know. They're dangerous. I just . . . I don't want to be responsible for . . . for  _that_."

He found that he was digging his fingers into his temples, and Simmons looked at him with a concern that Fitz thought must be mixed with something else.

"You're not, Fitz. I promise."

The softness in her voice stilled him, stilled the universe, and he realized that she was very close to him, but he needed her to be closer. He was almost about to do something about it when he stopped himself with a yelp and quickly made an excuse to leave. As he scurried out the door, he thought he heard a, "Goodbye, Fitz," called after him, and he clearly wasn't thinking straight, because Simmons almost sounded disappointed.

He ran all the way to his assigned quarters, and when the doors swished open, Fitz entered the space and flopped down on the bed with a sigh.

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he finally let the walls down, truly allowing himself to feel all the embarrassment, awkwardness, and affection he'd been repressing since the moment he knew Simmons was near him. The emotions washed over him so quickly that his eyes grew wet, and he reminded himself that he'd come back from his quest to find Admiral Coulson only a few days ago,  and his and Jemma's return to something akin to normalcy was barely older than that. But here, in the privacy of his own room, he could love Jemma Simmons wholly and completely, and he did. He recalled every look, every movement, and loved every particle of her.

He knew that as Jemma continued her training, he would have to redouble his efforts. But there were moments (like the one he'd just literally ran away from) that were starting to weaken his resolve.

"Computer," he commanded, "how many times have I asked you to define the term, 'imzadi?'"

The answer came in a calm, dispassionate, and clearly feminine voice that Fitz found oddly soothing.

"You have requested the definition of 'imzadi' forty-seven times." 

Fitz stared at the ceiling for a second, scrubbing his face with the heels of his hands before resting his forearms over his eyes.

"Computer: define it again, please."

"Imzadi," explained the computer, "is a term of endearment in Betazoid culture, meaning 'beloved.' It is often used in both romantic and platonic contexts."

From where he lay, Fitz reached down to the drawer built into his bed, relying on muscle memory to find the small scrap of paper that was starting to fray at the edges. He skimmed his fingers over the words as he read them. 

 

> _Prosciutto & Mozzarella (not replicated) _
> 
> _Be safe, imzadi._
> 
> _Love, Jemma_

 

He'd looked at the note for what seemed like hours, and he was still not sure what a word like 'imzadi' meant to an Earth-born, Earth-raised, half-Betazoid. 

* * *

Simmons paused before touching the control panel outside Fitz's quarters, taking a deep breath and pulling at her collar as she asked herself (again) if this was completely necessary. 

This past year had been so confusing, from losing her best friend to honing an ability that her Human ancestors considered witchcraft. It still felt wrong to her, this peeking into other brains. She was grateful that her telepathy was limited to sensing emotions, because if she could actually read thoughts or pull memories, she'd likely be driven mad. Jemma had no idea how M'Ay handled it, but then, she had no idea how M'Ay handled anything. She was only grateful that she had someone to teach her, at least.

Jemma took in a sharp breath as she remembered the first few days of her training, when she'd been pulled from Fitz's bedside to do the one thing that she'd avoided doing, because the new admiral had learned that one telepath by his side wasn't enough. She remembered the meditating and the startling revelation that learning how to read emotions wasn't like learning how to use a phaser. Telepathy wasn't a weapon she could pick up and point at something else as much as it was digging up parts of herself that she had worked so hard to bury. It was, in effect, almost as terrifying as watching Fitz unconscious on a biobed, and almost as infuriating as knowing that Ward was the person who put him there. After those first few sessions, she'd found herself staring into the mirror at the black eyes she'd always hated for making her almost, but not quite, like the rest of her family and deciding that if Fitz needed her to, she'd keep going. She remembered her hope that she would be able to sense him while he slept, and the way her heart broke when her abilities weren't even strong enough to help him when he woke up.

As she stood in front of Fitz's door, she grew discouraged at the fact that even then, she didn't have the power to sense him. And not since her father tried to replace her deceased Betazoid mother with a new Human wife did Jemma Simmons long so much for someone she could not reach.

It took her a few seconds before she had the courage to tap the control pad and request to be let in.

"Enter."

She hesitated, then obeyed, stepping into the space with one hand gripping a PADD and the other clenched into a fist.

"Fitz?"

"Here, Simmons."

She followed the voice to the corner of the room, just past the bed, where Fitz was seated at a desk. 

"This is much smaller than mine," she observed, knowing the worry had crept into her voice, but hoping Fitz wouldn't take offense this time.

"It's only for a few days," he replied, "just until we get back home."

"I thought San Francisco was home," she challenged, moving to sit on the bed. His back was still turned to her, but she really should be able to read him at this distance. Instead, it was like talking to a statue.

He swiveled in his chair to face her.

"They're both home, I guess. It's just that Starbase 616 is . . . we have a place there, you know? People miss us when we leave."

Jemma nodded. "I suppose."

He gave her a smile that was too small to hold all the unsaid words between them, and Jemma marveled that they were alike in so many ways. And yet, if he was also an empath, he'd know the way  _she_  missed him, and the way he still felt gone. He would know that she was always able to read him, even when she was trying not to, and that his presence used to be constant and reassuring as the humming of the warp core. He would know that when he went still, her life became devoid of color.

But, of course, he would also know these things if she ever found the courage to tell him. It seemed that giving him a Betazoid brain would be easier.

"So," Fitz started gesturing at the PADD in her hands, "did you need help with your analysis, or?"

She almost lied to him—that had also been part of M'Ay's training. But she wasn't too good with improvised lies, only prepared ones, and the only thing she'd prepared was what she had come to say to Fitz. So, she took a deep breath, and forced the words out.

"No, I just . . . we need to talk."

Fitz's eyebrows shot up.

"We do?"

Simmons took another breath. "Earlier, in the genetics lab, I—"

"I'm sorry," Fitz blurted.

"What?"

"I'm sorry for running out."

The sincerity on his face and in his voice were all she had to go by, and it felt so hollow.

"Oh, I, um, I'm sure you had your reasons."

Fitz cocked his head at her. "So, you're not upset? You look upset."

She had to let out a chuckle at that.

"I'm not upset about  _that_ , I just . . . I have something to tell you."

Fitz shifted in his chair. "Okay."

The resigned look he gave her made her clear her throat and bury her gaze in the words on the PADD. "Yes, well, a while back, you asked me why I left when you were . . . when you were unwell." She looked up and watched as his expression grew grim, and he gave her a nod. "Well, I didn't lie to you. I did visit my parents, before Hydra. I, um, my mother had some old journals."

She heard Fitz's sharp intake of breath, and she tightened her grip on the device. 

"I know that I haven't spoken about her before, but that's . . . that's because I didn't know much. She, uh, I barely remember her. But she had all these journals, and I never read them as a child, but I thought . . . M’Ay is great, you know, but she _is_  a Vulcan, and it's different. And I thought, I hoped, that maybe I'd find something in there that would help." She winced internally at her stumbling and remembered to breathe.

"So, did you?" Fitz asked. "Find something?"

She gave a resigned chuckle as the tears formed. "Yes, actually. Have you ever heard of an empathic signature?" She waited as Fitz shook his head. "Sometimes, when a person spends a lot of time with an object, they leave behind an echo of themselves, like a fingerprint. So my mother, she wasn't just in the words on the pages; she was in the pages themselves. Every time I opened that book, I could literally feel her love for me. Some of the entries were letters to me; that must be why." She looked up at Fitz and saw a kind of awe she didn't understand. "Anyway, that's when everything started to change. I, uh, well I never really fit in at home. I never really fit in anywhere before y-, um, before I came to San Francisco."

Fitz ducked his head. "Neither did I."

"Yes, well, what I came here to say is . . . it's just that . . ." She took in a breath and reminded herself to stick to the text. "I've changed. Not really, not like Skye, but I've spent a lifetime pretending that I'm not my mother's daughter, and people got used to me being this . . . this person that isn't really me. And I don't blame them, really.  _I'm_  still getting used to being me, and figuring out what it means to be Betazoid. It's not just the telepathy; there's also this culture, and a heritage that I—and I almost feel—ugh, I'm rubbish at this!" She pinched her eyes closed and resisted the urge to throw the PADD across the room. "Suddenly, I'm supposed to be this expert on emotions, and I just, well, here it goes: I don't feel like I have any friends anymore, and I just got you back, and that means a lot to me, but I need you to be friends with  _me_." She had to take a few moments to catch her breath after spitting out the words. She wanted to gauge his reaction, but she didn't dare look.

"What? I don't—you don't think I— _Jemma_." She heard the scolding in his voice and decided she did not like it.

"I can feel you closing off, Fitz. If you only want to be friends with the Human half of me—if you don't trust me anymore—"

"Jemma."

"Both halves of me were in that escape pod with you, Fitz. I'm still the person you gave the EV suit to, and I—"

"Jemma!"

She opened her mouth to continue speaking, but snapped it shut in shock. The moment she met Fitz's eyes, he pulled away and started massaging his bad hand.

"What does 'imzadi' mean?"

The question caught her off guard, and she opened her mouth a few times to speak before the words came. Fitz was no help, of course, as he refused to meet her eyes.

"Well, it . . ." Her heart leapt into her throat. "It means 'beloved.'"

He nodded, but he didn't look up at her. "So, 'beloved' like I'm your best friend in the quadrant, or . . ."

She stared at him in shock for a moment before she realized that he actually expected an answer. 

"It means . . ." She wanted to run away, to hide somewhere, but she tried to think of  _where_  she would to go, and the only answer was  _here_. She couldn't help but shake her head as she felt the tears form. "I don't know, Fitz. It's just—it's what you are. I'm still—I'm still figuring it all out. And I just, you're my best friend and I need . . ." She closed her eyes. "Why aren't you letting me read you anymore?"

She heard the sigh he let out as he hung his head.

"You know why."

She furrowed her brow. "No, I don't."

"Jemma," he groaned.

"I hardly think I would have come all this way to ask a question when I already have the answer."

" _Jemma_."

It was the look that he gave her, a mixture of defeat and regret, that made her eyes grow wide in understanding. 

"I didn't want to bother you," he explained, "I mean, you're—I'm—I only told you so you'd take the suit, and when I didn't end up dying, I thought it would be wrong to  _force_  you to . . . you've got a lot going on, so . . . I'm proud of you. You're brilliant."

He looked up at her then, piercing her soul with those clear, blue eyes she knew so well.  

"Oh."

The syllable pushed itself out of her lips without her consent, and when he met her eyes, they simply stared at each other.

"Fitz," she finally asked.

"Yeah?"

She pulled at her fingers. "Can you show me?" 

She watched the terror flit across his face, and he gulped. "You don't . . . you don't want that."

She told herself that she really didn't. After all, she was just after the feeling of his presence, of the easy friendship that had been the foundation of her life for so long. She missed the colors of his laser-like focus on his projects, and the joy that bubbled up inside him when he got a prototype to work. And, after all, she was a scientist. Avoiding any kind of truth seemed hypocritical.

"I'm a biochemist, not a psychologist," she offered, "but it seems like it would be unhealthy for us to . . . if I made you hide part of yourself."

Her eyes were on her wringing hands when he spoke.

"Are you sure?"

She wasn't, but she nodded anyway. 

"Okay."

He'd described his feelings simply as "more," but what happened then was like a tidal wave, like being washed over with love in a way she never could have fathomed. She felt it radiate off him and pour into her, filling her with warmth and a surprising freedom. This was studying on a bench at the Presidio and long walks through the Lake District. This was beer on the Bus after a triumph in the lab and jumping into space to save a failure. It was warm days on Risa and cool days with tea and everything wrapped up into a word that was too small to contain it. Tears were streaming down her face before she realized that she was crying at the beauty of it, and the way it filled her up and shone a light in the dark places. 

"That's how you see me?"

Fitz picked at some lint on his uniform. "Is that okay?"

She was so overwhelmed that Jemma was really not sure how to respond. Since she'd started developing her abilities, she'd become accustomed to the often startling emotional reactions. Skye, for example, did _not_  enjoy  _Doctor Who_  nearly as much as she let on, and the admiral often felt more lonely than she'd ever suspected. Even with her limited skill, she'd discovered an immense landscape of white lies, half-truths, and secrets. And, even though quite a few of them had been about  _her_ , nothing had prepared her for this.

But she pushed her feelings aside when she saw the way he looked up, silently screaming the vulnerability reflected in his eyes. 

"You're my best friend, Fitz," she assured him with a smile. "Of course it's okay."

He seemed satisfied with that, nodding absent-mindedly. After a few moments, his gaze snapped onto hers with an affectionate sincerity. "You know," he started, "at least, well I hope you can  _feel_ , that I don't expect anything. We really  _can_  be friends. And if . . . uh, if it bothers you, you'll tell me, yeah?"

She nodded at that, sifting through his feelings to find the hopelessness hidden beneath. And, the pain, oh, the pain that ran deep enough to leave scars. She wasn't sure how, but she was determined to heal the ache in his heart.

Jemma nodded at his request, trying to hold back tears and knowing the futility of resistance. "Fitz, our friendship, it means a lot to me." She took in a shaky breath, wishing yet again that he could look into her heart and tell her what this all meant. "Do you think . . . do you think you could come back and work with me? Finally accept that promotion?" She felt the anxiety start to well up in her. "Because, you know, it's not just Hydra. There are so many secrets out there to unravel—dark matter lifeforms, coaxial warp drive, sentient holograms, and who knows what else. We have a bright future that's so much brighter if we work together."

She found herself crouching in front of Fitz with her hand on his knee, and the contact felt so gratifying that she was overwhelmed by the sudden desire to get closer. Instead, she retreated. How cruel would it be to stir up the feelings he was already so ashamed of?

Fitz let out a breath, drawing her attention back to the eyes that were now level with hers. "Sure, Jemma. If you think it's a good idea."

She forced the certainty into her smile. "It is, Fitz. I promise." 

* * *

Lieutenant Commander Jemma Simmons was not sure this was a good idea at all.

It had, of course, seemed like a good idea at the beginning. Honestly, it felt like a dream. People often joked about their psychic link, many before they realized that Jemma was, in fact, an empath. Now that her empathic abilities were stronger, she was even better at finishing his sentences, understanding his frustrations, and knowing when he was too hungry to properly function. It amazed her, though, how well Fitz was able to respond in kind. Somehow, easing back into their status quo as collaborative equals was like relaxing into a mud bath.

The only problem was that it wasn't enough. 

Sometimes, she could convince herself that it was, in fact, appropriate for her to start digging through Fitz's feelings. It was, she told herself, simply a training exercise that also satisfied her (purely scientific) curiosity. Why, for example, did Fitz not exhibit the discomfort she sensed from the rest of the crew? He was just as mindful of her abilities as everyone else. More, perhaps, because she could feel his desire to be seen, to  _be known_ , and _by her_. Somehow, his mind was reaching out to her, pulling her down into his internal world, and the descent sparked a strange liberation in the both of them. And he wasn't even aware of it.

Stranger still, the problem didn't only exist while they were on duty. It seemed that as her abilities grew stronger, she could sense Fitz no matter where he was. He seemed to pull her telepathy with him even when he'd ventured further than she thought she could reach. She was constantly surrounded by his feelings of longing, of loyalty, of love. She began to understand that Fitz didn't see her as an unholy amalgamation of Scientist Jemma and Empath Jemma, or Human Jemma and Betazoid Jemma, but simply as  _Jemma_ , as this whole person that she didn't recognize. 

Or was she starting to?

It certainly was troubling.

"I think I'm losing myself," she told M'Ay one day, sitting cross-legged in the commander's quarters. She stared at the flame in the small lamp in front of her and tried to feel the calm that M'Ay expected.

"How so?"

"I just, I'm having difficulty separating my emotions from those around me. It reminds me of what my step-mother used to say when I was growing up: 'Mind your own mind.' I used to just go to my room so I could be alone and not bother people, but now there's nowhere I can go without sensing someone. What am I supposed to do? Go to a monastery?"

M'Ay raised one perfectly-manicured eyebrow. "Do you want to be alone?"

Jemma felt the need to look at her hands. "No."

"Why do you think that is?"

A silence grew between them as Jemma searched herself for answers and found none. 

* * *

The realization, of course, came at the least convenient time.

She was standing over the frail body of Lieutenant Morse, sensing how her consciousness flickered in and out, and the déjà vu was almost unbearable. When she looked over at Petty Officer Hunter, needing see the hurt she felt in him, she found him staring back at her with a silent question.

"It was like this, yes."

Hunter gave a solemn nod before creasing his brow.

"You know, I never really heard how it happened."

She raised an eyebrow at this, because the story seemed to propagate itself. She took in a breath as she realized that the words had never actually come out of her mouth before, and she wasn't sure that she ever wanted them to.

In the end, it was her unruly need to soothe his pain that tipped the balance.

She told him how Ward made them believe that the Bus was going to self-destruct, how he ushered them into one specific escape pod, and how they only realized that he was Hydra when the computer notified them of a hull breach. She told him how they could only find two EV suits, and how Fitz waited until the pod tore itself apart before telling her that his suit was malfunctioning.

She left out the way her fingers ached as they floated in the desolation of space.

"Was that the first time?" The question came with an un-Hunter-like caution. "That you  _tried_  to use your powers?"

Simmons blinked. "Fitz had already sent out a distress beacon, and it's not like I could reach anyone if I—"

"But you wanted to reach  _him_."

Her mouth fell open in pure consternation as a sad smile played on his lips.

"We're more alike than you think," he explained. "You would have done it for him, too. Sacrificed yourself. Just like I would have done it for Bob." He looked down at the life they almost lost, and Jemma couldn't help but eye the wound one more time. "I'd give anything to know what she's thinking right now."

She placed a hand on his shoulder and bit back the encroaching guilt. "She loves you."

It was the doubt in his eyes that stung her.

"She misses you," she clarified.

"Well, I miss her, too" Hunter replied, giving something between a sigh and a humorless laugh, "but that's nothing new, is it?"

It was then that she realized just how and why it all seemed so familiar, and for once, Jemma Simmons knew exactly what she needed to do. As soon as Bobbi stabilized, she shed her lab coat and ran. When she found him, she had to lean against the door frame and catch her breath.

"It means home. You're my home."  

Fitz lifted his head and met her eyes. 

"Jemma?"

He was in the midst of preparing for a mission, but he froze at her words.

"That's why you're my imzadi," she whispered, looking down at her hands, "I miss you even when we're in the same room."

She heard Fitz  _hmm_ , and when the sound gave way to a silence, Jemma felt her heart beat so loud that she was sure Fitz could hear it. It seemed like an eternity before he spoke.

"Same for me, I guess. Remember that close call we had on Megas-Tu? And when you caught that virus on Chitauri Prime-"

"And jumped out an airlock? Trust me; I remember."

She thought she saw the hint of a smile. "Yeah, I would think so." He reached up to scratch his ear. "But, uh, I guess that's how best friends are sometimes."

She knew it was a lie, and from the look in Fitz's eyes, he didn't really expect her to believe it. He was giving her a way out.  _How very Human_ , she thought.

She took him in then, from the pack he held in his hand to the three pips on his collar. She felt both his fear and her own as she took a timid step forward. 

"We're more than that, Fitz," she breathed, almost hoping he wouldn't hear her. "Aren't we?"

When she finally stopped, her face was only inches from his, and he craned back a bit.

"What are you doing?"

She paused for a bit, sifting through his feelings until she found his ever-present desire.

"I've decided to embrace a few Betazoid customs," she answered.

Fitz gulped. "Such as?"

She took a big breath and felt like she was standing at the edge of a cliff.

"Honesty."

She dared to look at him in the eye as he cocked his head at her.

"You're always honest. Unless you've been ordered to lie."

"I thought I was." 

She felt his concern before she saw it in his face. "What does that mean?"

She couldn't hold back a sigh. "I miss you when you're in the same room with me, Fitz. I miss you right now. What do you think it means?"

Her wet eyes held his as she continued to ask the question in silence, feeling his love surround her like a blanket of warm air.

"Fitz?"

He answered her by cupping her jaw and bringing her lips to his, and she quickly found that his mouth was soft and firm against hers. Her hesitation faded into something very serious, and Jemma felt herself overwhelmed with a need to make him feel every bit as loved as she was, endeavoring to show him with every slide of her lips. She pulled him closer until he could feel the beat of her heart, feel that he  _was_  her heart, and when she felt him smile, she knew it was only the beginning.

"Imzadi," he gasped as they broke apart, "that's what it means?"

She smiled as she felt his fingers comb through her hair and gave him half a shrug.

"It's what we are."

She loved his smile, and the way she could feel the doubt melt away with each heartbeat, and she drew him into another kiss to show him, to paint a picture of her heart that he could taste and feel. 

They broke apart the second time when he began to laugh.

"What is it?" she asked, holding back a grin.

"It's this Betazoid honesty," he replied, "I think I like it. But we should try it again, just to be sure."

As he drew her in for a third, searing kiss, she felt the true calm of knowing that she now had one, whole heart, and that it belonged to the right person. They both had uncharted space ahead of them, seeking out new life and new civilizations, and Jemma felt sure they would succeed as long as they had each other.

She decided to wait a few months to tell him about Betazoid weddings. 

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to fit in at least one reference from every Star Trek series, so here we go:
> 
>   * The maintenance drones Fitz were pining after are exocomps from _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ , and they were never put into production because they became sentient, and it got awkward.
>   * Self-sealing stem bolts are from _Star Trek: Deep Space Nine_ , and no one is quite sure how to use them, but they're worth AT LEAST five thousand wrappages of Cardassian yamok sauce, amirite?
>   * Instead of being a refurbished 747, the Bus in this AU is similar to the _Delta Flyer_ from _Star Trek: Voyager_.
>   * The "challenges of Vulcan biology" are Jemma's way of euphemizing pon farr, first seen in the original _Star Trek_. It's a neurochemical imbalance in adult Vulcans that results in death if the subject does not a) mate, b) engage in mortal combat, or c) meditate like they have never meditated before. It's supposed to occur naturally every seven years, but it could theoretically be brought on prematurely by, say, exposure to an Asgardian staff. Pon farr is considered so private that M’Ay would have asked Simmons to keep it from the rest of the team, including Coulson and Fitz.
>   * Hydra's genetic enhancements are based off _Star Trek: Enterprise_ 's Suliban Cabal, and they can also survive extreme environments (like the vacuum of space), so yeah. They're terrifying. And they work for bad guys from the future. So, if you ever need to never sleep again, just imagine a Suliban!Ward who needs closure, and you're good to go.
>   * FitzSimmons must hate Megas-Tu, because magic works there, and science doesn't. Also, it's where Lucifer lives. That's right, kids. The Devil is an actual character in _Star Trek: The Animated Series_ (and yes, there IS an animated series, and yes, it is likely exactly what you expect, but with pink spaceships).
>   * Bonus: San Francisco (specifically: the Presidio) is where Starfleet headquarters are located, including the Trek version of SciTech and SciOps.
>   * Double Bonus: Everyone is nude at a Betazoid wedding—the bride, the groom, the family, and the guests. Fitz is in for quite the surprise. I kinda think Mama Fitz would be into it, though.
> 

> 
> There were some other Easter eggs as well. How many references can you find?


End file.
